Yes. For Mia, I could do anything. Selling my soul to the devil never looked so appealing.
With that grim acceptance settling over me like a shroud, sleep finally claimed me.
Eight
MATT
Matt’s office was a whirlwind of activity late into the night. Paperwork covered every inch of his sleek mahogany desk, and his computer screen flickered with a constant stream of emails and reports. Despite the late hour, he remained laser-focused, his eyes scanning each document with razor-sharp precision.
His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, composing emails and issuing commands to his various enterprises. The hum of activity never ceased; even at this late hour, deals were being made. Matt’s empire was ever-expanding, and he thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the sweet taste of conquest. With each stroke of his pen, fortunes shifted, and empires rose and fell at his command.
A deep breath broke his concentration. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stretched his powerful frame, the muscles in his broad shoulders rippling beneath his crisp white dress shirt. The digital clock on his desk read 1:17 a.m. It was time to call it a night. He gathered the documents scattered around him, straightening them into a neat pile before standing up.
The walk to his penthouse was a short one. When he entered, silence greeted him—except for the faint sound of breathing. Andy lay sprawled on the bed, clad only in a shirt that had ridden up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of toned abs. His feet dangled off the edge of the mattress, toes just grazing the floor.
Matt shook his head in amusement, his eyes drinking in the alluring sight before him. Without a second thought, he crossed the room and scooped Andy up in his powerful arms. Andy stirred but didn’t wake, nestling unconsciously against Matt’s chest. For a moment, Matt stood still, relishing the way the younger man’s weight felt so natural, so right against his chest.
Gently, he deposited Andy onto the bed, arranging his limp form amid the plush sheets and downy pillows. For a moment, Matt allowed himself to linger, his gaze tracing the delicate lines of Andy’s features, the slight parting of those full lips.
Reluctantly tearing himself away, Matt headed for the shower, shedding his clothes as the steam filled the room. Under the cascade of hot water, his thoughts drifted to his proposition to Andy.
Matt wanted Andy, craved him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. No one else would do. But it was more than just physical desire; he saw the potential in Andy’s ideas, the way James had seen it too. This app could disrupt the market, become the next big thing, and Matt wanted to be a part of that success.
Andy was an investment, a package deal that Matt couldn’t pass up. As the water sluiced over his sculpted form, he made a decision. He would give Andy a couple of days to mull over his offer, to truly understand the opportunity laid before him.
Then Matt would demand an answer, one way or another. Because in his world, he always got what he wanted—and what he wanted was Andy Donovan.
Matt stepped out of the shower, his skin still warm and damp. He pulled on a pair of silk pajama pants, forgoing a shirtin the balmy night air. As he approached the bed, his eyes locked on to Andy’s sleeping form, and he couldn’t help but pause, drinking in the sight.
Andy’s dark hair fanned out over the pillow in tousled waves, framing his face in a way that made him look impossibly soft and vulnerable. His thick lashes fanned over his cheekbones, lush enough to make any woman jealous. Matt’s eyes traced the gentle curve of Andy’s parted lips, that perfect pout that was just begging to be kissed.
An inexplicable warmth bloomed in Matt’s chest as he watched the younger man sleep. Andy looked so peaceful, so achingly beautiful in that moment. Matt found himself wondering, not for the first time, what it was about this young man that affected him so profoundly. He was captivated, utterly enthralled by Andy’s presence in a way he couldn’t quite rationalize.
With a soft sigh, Matt slipped beneath the sheets beside Andy’s sleeping form. He couldn’t resist the urge to be closer, to feel the heat radiating from that lithe body. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Matt draped an arm over Andy’s waist, pulling the younger man flush against his chest.
A soft whimper escaped Andy’s lips, and Matt frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. Andy’s face contorted, his features pinched as if he were trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Without hesitation, Matt tightened his embrace, cradling Andy’s frame against his own as tremors racked the younger man’s body.
Tears leaked from the corners of Andy’s tightly shut eyes, and Matt felt a pang in his chest. What sort of terrors plagued Andy’s dreams? Was it the looming debt, the fear of what Matt might demand of him? Or was it something deeper, darker—ghosts from Andy’s past that continued to haunt him?
Gently, Matt brushed the tears from Andy’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He murmured soft, soothing words, his deep voice a reassuring rumble against Andy’s ear. Gradually, the younger man’s cries quieted, his body relaxing into the protective circle of Matt’s arms. With a heavy sigh, Matt allowed his own eyes to drift shut.
When Matt woke next, the predawn stillness of the room was palpable, yet a sensation prickled at the back of his neck—the distinct feeling of being watched. Despite his instincts screaming to confront the observer, he suppressed the urge and kept his breathing steady, feigning sleep.
His heart thrummed in his chest, not from alarm but anticipation. He knew Andy was studying him with an intensity that was almost palpable. That thought coaxed a smirk to dance at the corner of his mouth, hidden by the pretense of slumber. The thought of those gold-brown eyes roving over his features, drinking in every chiseled line and rugged angle, sent a delicious thrill skittering down Matt’s spine.
Matt remained perfectly still, his muscles lax and pliant as he waited with bated breath to see what Andy would do next. The anticipation built with every passing second, a delicious tension crackling between their bodies like an electric current.
A shift in the mattress alerted him to movement. Warm breath ghosted over his face, and Matt fought to maintain the illusion of deep sleep. The distance between them evaporated until Andy’s presence hovered just inches above him.
Then Matt felt the slightest brush of fingertips against his skin—soft and tentative at first, then growing bolder as they traced the sharp line of his nose, the cutting angles of his cheekbones and jaw. A shiver of pleasure rippled through him at the featherlight caress, but still, he didn’t move, didn’t give any indication that he was awake and acutely aware of Andy’s exploration.
Those inquisitive fingers danced across Matt’s face with reverent wonder, mapping out every contour and plane as if committing each detail to memory. Matt’s pulse quickened as Andy’s touch drifted lower, tracing the fullness of his lips with maddening slowness.
A spark of heat ignited low in Matt’s belly, desire coiling tight and insistent within him. He wanted—no, needed—to feel those soft lips against his own, to taste the sweetness of Andy’s mouth and sate the gnawing hunger that had been building since the moment he first laid eyes on the younger man.
Matt’s breath caught in his throat as Andy’s face dipped closer, their bodies separated by a mere whisper of space. He could feel the warmth of Andy’s exhalations ghosting over his parted lips, could practically taste the heady anticipation that hung thick in the air between them.
And then, fuck, the exquisite pressure of Andy’s mouth against his own—soft and tentative at first, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. But there was a hunger there, simmering just beneath the surface, and Matt felt it in the way Andy’s lips moved with increasing fervor against his own. It was a kiss that wasn’t part of any deal or negotiation—a kiss that felt dangerously close to real.
